For the Sake of Brevity...

This blog is one that I originally posted on my personal blog, but I'm posting it on the group blog because I thought it would be an enjoyable read for you all...

Professor Biggs' daughter, Xu Ang, and I at the tomb of Ming Mangh
Making our wishes on our paper mini-boats...
Our wishes floating down the river...

Todays blog consists of two different days and nights (Yesterday, August 10 and Today, August 11^th) , for the sake of brevity.

August 10^th consisted of more rain, but by midday, the storm clouds cleared up. The day consisted of a day trip to the tomb of the second emperor of Vietnam, Ming Mangh. According to historians, Ming Mangh had concubines that added up to more than 1500. That’s the life.

We arrived to the tomb at around noon, while it was still raining as hard as news footage of hurricanes. But the funny thing is, as we arrived their, the skies cleared up. This tomb was a very eloquent, and sometimes eccentric, tomb that was the size of a mall. Complete with; river delta, superannuated buildings, colorful pagodas, and vast vegetation as far as the eyes could see. The day, although raining just minutes before we arrived, was a very humid one. Maybe it was the trees, or maybe it’s just how Vietnam is, but humidity seems to follow you everywhere. We took pictures, cooled ourselves off with ice cream, and made jokes about the brothels that Ming Mangh procured as leader of Vietnam. We skipped stones along the river, ate exotic fruits, and hiked long trails. Innocent, nostalgic, gorgeous…

We left the tomb on a different vehicle than we arrived. Instead of leaving on a bus, in which we arrived on, we left on a dragon boat. We were told that the boat ride came accompanied with live music along the lighted river bank. Excited, the band boarded the bus dressed in traditional Vietnamese garb and carried with them traditional Vietnamese instruments. Songs were song, instruments were played. There was something about live, traditional, and lyric-less, music while the sun was setting along the backdrop of a riverbank that really pulled a string in my heart. I could see people driving by from where our boat was, like little glowing ants. Everything seemed so miniscule to me, all the while the female singers were singing in Vietnamese. Not a word sung was understood by me, but somehow I knew that she was singing about love. Her voice just exuded with that sort of thing. Before our time with this lovely band was over, they asked us to light candles on colorful mini-boats (about the size of apples) and make wishes as we set them free to the mouth of the river. As I looked across the boat in each of my compadres’ faces, I could tell that wishes were made from the heart. The boats floated away, along with our heartfelt wishes.

We ate dinner at a floating restaurant along the river. Not 100 yards away was the location of our wishes, floating down the Perfume River. Places like this, which I’ve been to in OrangeCounty, usually cost an arm and a leg. Here, though, the priciest item was crab that went for about 5 dollars. Now, I understand that we have to pay extra for stuff in the States because we’re also paying for the venue, the waiters’ salary, and the extra cost to run stuff, but come on, a whole 50 dollars extra per plate? That is ridiculous.

Dinner was great. As usual, we drank, and lamented on the day that past us by so fast...

Today (August 11^th) was a day in which past by too fast. I woke up to the sounds of my air conditioning whirling to continue its frantic pace of keeping me cool during these humid days. The weather outside was grey, complete with a light pouring of rain on my window. In California, rainy days require winter-like clothing. Here, though, you can wear board shorts and a tee in the rain if you wanted. I decided to go with the latter and wear very light clothing. Class went by slow as usually, but the information shared to us was very enlightening.

We all got back to our hotel rooms at about noon. Our usual routine after class is lunch, exploring, then dinner. Today it seemed that the weather drained all of us. Knowing that some of us, including myself, had our responsibility to the orphanage today I decided to nap for 30 minutes. I don’t know what it was, but I turned on a little bit of Bob Marley (this and the rain mixed make a very stress-free atmosphere), and faded away...

I abruptly woke up to hard knocks on my door telling me that it was 3pm. 30 minutes had turned into 2 hours. I had overslept. Aside from this, it turned out that the torrential rains knocked out our electricity for the unforeseen future. The hotel employees were walking around with flashlights, filling in holes in the ceilings with bags, and handing out candles to each hotel room. Honestly, the rain made me drowsy and lethargic, so going to the orphanage was the last thing I wanted to do. But after thinking it through, I knew that I couldn’t flake on kids who needed people like me the most. I decided to go and not skip out on them.

At the orphanage we played hangman and practiced grammar. The kids are growing on us more and more as everyday passes. I’ve been working with kids, teaching and such, for the past 2 years, and for some reason these kids strike a different chord within me. Something about their innocence, some of them not knowing what a watch looks like, really ignites my spirit to teach. They need positive influences in their lives, and I’m glad I can be one of them. Nevertheless, the nun shared with us information that she hadn’t in the past. In turns out that some of these kids were lost children from the typhoon that struck Vietnam in the early 90’s. Most the children survived, but heartbreakingly, the parents did not. Now if you believe in a God or not, isn’t it miraculous that these children survived something that adults could not? Amazing…

Dinner was as eventful as ever. We decided to eat in the backpackers (travelers area) district to have dinner. We stayed clear of this place prior to tonight because of all the Europeans gathering around this area, over populating it, this making it less authentic. But honestly, it turned out to be a great place, full of lively restaurants and beautiful lighting. Dinner took place at a restaurant owned by an expat that settled in Hue after meeting a beautiful Viet woman. Although I didn’t meet the owner, it seemed as though he was a surfer because of the beach music playing the background and the Hawaiian décor on the walls. All-in-all, a great place, complete with awesome food...

We ended the night at a bar called “Brown Eyes,” probably named after the almond-shaped brown eyes the owner had. Beautiful. Something about a lively environment, along with beautiful girls alluring you in with fliers for free drinks that a man cannot decline. A lively place awaited us fresh with Frenchman and Aussies (always a good bunch to drink with). Black lights, fully stocked bar, modern art, and graffiti walls were what this bar offered, and we gladly accepted. Pictures of Che Guevarra, half-naked women, Marilyn Monroe, and Darwin-esque paintings were juxtaposed on the wall. The waitress offered us our drinks and offered me a guitar to play. As we drank, I tried to play tunes of The Beatles to no avail, the strings were rusted, and the guitar was out of tune. Regardless, we all enjoyed the night, laughing and drinking our worries away. Nonetheless, the bar is a place I will return to in the near future. The ambiance was too good for me not to do so and the cheap drinks were more than a plus. Perfect lighting, great drinks, and great people always add up to a great night, no matter what...

A beautiful night indeed…

Live from Vietnam, Sonny

Ruins & Music

One thing I like about Hue that makes the city stand apart from Saigon is the amount of historical monuments and ruins dotting the region. A short walk away from our hotel is the 'Forbidden Kingdom' of the Nguyen kings, the last reigning dynasty in Vietnam. Our first weekend in Hue we took a bus ride to My Son, the religious center of old Champa. The ruins here are magnificent, and it is such a shame that most of them were destroyed in the bombing during the war. The Champa build with intricately stacked red bricks in which carvings of Hindu gods reside in hidden niches. It always amazes me to see palaces and temples carved out of stone in an era in which modern stonecutting tools and machinery had not yet been invented. What labor it must have taken to build the entire religious complex in My Son; what amazing dedication. Stepping into the hallowed out buildings makes me shiver--there is a certain sense of frozen time hanging in the darkness: the smell of mildew, the soft buzz of insects hiding in the thick forest that gently envelopes the ruins as if protecting it from further damage. I'd learned about the linga and yoni in Religious Myths & Rituals class at UCR, and it was amazing to see the Champa versions of these Shiva shrines in real life. Vietnam often conjures up pictures of Chinese style palaces and pagodas, but here, lying quietly on the slopes of a mountain, sits a relic of a kingdom whose cultural allegiance lies with India.

In class, we have been learning about the Nguyen kings of Vietnam. Gia Long and Minh Mang, two of the most well known and influential rulers in the history of modern Vietnam, were just names on paper--old figures whose contributions to the country are now remembered between the pages of a textbook. Yesterday we took a visit to Minh Mang's tomb, a massive mausoleum spread out between the curling embrace of a lake. Seeing a still living monument to a king who lived hundreds of years ago brought him to life. We saw the courtyard where detailed statues of mandarins, horses and elephants stood eternally watchfully. I imagined how it must have been like back in the days, when the tomb was still being built and scores of workers, officials, and overseers carefully directed the construction. Housed in a pavilion overlooking the courtyard was a large stella on which was written a dedication from Minh Mang's song, Thieu Tri, to his father. The characters were done in Chinese-style Nom script. You wonder as to the relationship between father and son, two kings who both contributed to the building of a nation.

After the visit to the tomb, we hopped into a 'dragon boat' to lazily float down the Perfume River back to Hue. A light breeze rifled through the boat as we made headway, and along the riverbanks rose the green mountains of Hue. We passed by sampans anchored along the riverside--floating hammocks with a sheet of tin nailed over one end that served as homes for families. Laundry in primary colors waved at us from the sampans, hanging on invisible cords. We waved at the families and the children playing along the river.

When we arrived back in Hue, a party of musicians specializing in traditional music climbed aboard. The women were bedecked in colorful ao dai in white, purple and blue, their moon-shaped hats twinkling with sequined flowers and swirls. The men pulled on their own hats and costume in blue and white. Earlier, two weeks ago in Hoi An, we had also witnessed a traditional concert. The songs in Hoi An were cheerful and upbeat, and they made you want to tap your feet and jump up and dance along. The songs and music played yesterday were of a different beat. There was a certain mournful quality that was hard to ignore, even as the women clinked tiny teacups together and tapped wooden, branch like tambourines. Listening, as I did in Hoi An, I wondered as to the content of their songs. What songs were they singing? Were they songs that dreamed of Hue, of family, ancestors, and country? One appeared to be a love song, with a duet between a female singer and a male musician. Traditional songs are both different and similar to the popular songs we heard at karaoke a few days ago. The melodies of course, are products of their time. Yet the way the songs are sung, the lyrics perhaps, seem similar. I cannot understand or read them, but I get the impression that the songs have to do with Vietnam herself: whether it is extolling her beauty or speaking of the roots that continually draw her people back to her. Or perhaps I'm just being too sentimental.

Happy Birthday Nhan

So today after the boat tour me,Albert,Genie, Diem, Jan took a taxi back to the hotel to so we can make it in time for nhan's birthday surprise. it was seven o clock when we left the hotel and nhan said she will not be back until 8, so we thought we had enough time to grab dinner buy her a cake and then surprise her, but as Prof Biggs said in class here in Vietnam things never go as planned. so after getting some pho at a local restaurant we started to bike towards the cake store and just as we left the restaurant my pedal (which has been shaky for a while) suddenly falls off. thankfully it did not happen when we went up the bridge or in the middle of the intersection, Xuan would of killed me (she was riding on the back the whole time). This is the part where it gets even better, so we go to a local bike repair guy that was right around the corner. At first, I thought it would only take about 5 minutes to screw the pedal back on but it took him almost half an hour. about half way through me and diem decide it would be best if we went to get the cake first but both of the stores we went to could not provide with the cake that we needed so we had to go back empty handed. by the time we got back the bike repair started to work on another one of our bikes that no one asked him to. that took another 20 minutes, finally when he was done with Diem's bike he started work on Albert’s bike (at this point Jan and Johnny had removed their bikes so he doesn't grab them and "repair" it) just as we thought that it was over we paid him and started leaving, as we started to pedal our way out Diem's bike would not move so we had to wait another ten minutes for him to fix it. So, in all he took about an hour to fix our bikes, fixed the wrong bike, and fix the wrong bike wrong, and then he even tried to rip us off at the end(we even had enough time for Kung Fu lessons)(o and Johnny almost lost a tooth). This guy ruined our plan a but luckily we were still able to take nhan out to get some ice cream.

Confessions of a Hotel Guest

Here at Thanh Noi Hotel, the housekeeping staff are the most kindest staff ever. Every morning they welcome us with a good morning, clean out our rooms while we're at school, and assist us with anything we need to make us feel right at home. But sadly, I have a confession to make. While we're at school, they leave us a fruit to eat every day along with our morning breakfast ticket. The first couple of days I did not bother to eat the fruits because I thought I had to pay for them. I was wrong. Then one day while I was in my room, a housekeeping staff asked me why I did not eat or touch any of the fruits. I did not want to tell her that I thought I had to pay for them so I lied. I said that the fruits were too sweet. I know I should not have lied but I did not know what else to do. Then she said she'll give me fruits that are not as sweet. In my head I thought to myself, "okay I really have to eat the fruits."

You're probably thinking that was my confession right? Sadly, no. My confession is that I hide the fruits in my drawer everyday so I would not disappoint the staff. I can eat the fruits but I do not crave for it in the morning and when the afternoon comes around I forget all about it until the next day when I stash away another tropical and not as sweet fruit.

Impressions (written a few days ago)

As I sit here typing this, the air conditioning is softly whirring in my hotel room and the heady scent of incense from the incense coil that Sonny so kindly shared fills my head with memories of temples, heat and the ever present small Buddhist shrines that lined the streets last night on my bike ride home.

I've avoided writing anything that matters this trip-- matters in terms of personal thoughts, feelings, impressions for various reasons. It was too hot, I was too tired, my thoughts were too jumbled. In the end, I think that what I was really avoiding was myself.

Why did I come to Viet Nam? Purportedly, it was to learn about Viet Nam history and travel writing and to participate in an oral history project. But this may have just been me kidding myself, hiding the truth under my hands as my fingers struggled to keep it all inside. What I really came here for was to find out about my family -- about this tropical country that my parents grew up in, about the ways they did or didn't have enough growing up, about how Viet Nam has changed since the stories my parents told me of. It has been confusing, contrary and muddled, but above all so inexplicably insightful and wonderful. I feel like I've lived my life with my eyes only partially open and my heart is ready to burst.

Through all of this overwhelming feeling-- this tangle of family and history, of pride and loss, love and nostalgia, there is this:

The sound of honking fading away as Januar cycled us through the evening streets of Hue after a lovely dinner. The feel of the cool night air on my legs, the brush of tendrils of my hair blown into my face, the soft glow of street lights and the murmur of voices of people still sitting on stoops and street corners.

It was so lovely then and I forgot all of the things I am meant to remember-- but perhaps this is how it is meant to be. Amanda says that she feels much calmer here, much slower, and I am starting to believe that there is an indolence that lingers in the air and settles on our moist skin, sinking into our bloodstream. It is something that reminds us to take things slowly, to grasp this intoxicating country that we are visiting and welcome it all in, arms wide open. I finally feel ready.

Hoi An and Fashion!

Beautiful, filled with half-naked tourists and brimming with shops and souvenirs, the city of Hoi An was a wonderful place to visit. It was all little streets decorated with pretty lanterns and smiling people, ready to cater to foreigners' every whim. A lovely veneer to a grim reality…

After waking to a crazy rooster that would cock-a-doodle-do and gurgle from 4 am to 10pm at night... me, Xuan and Angie went on a mission to find converters and order up some fine fashion. Angie had already been accosted by a vivacious warm tailor, named Em Ma, right by the bridge by our hotel. Her quaint shop was a little ways away, complete with a pregnant shop girl and a toddler napping on a mat in the back room.

From just fashion magazines, fabric and some dubious sweatshop labor down the street somewhere; Em Ma crafted me an amazing white,black pinstriped jacket with purple silk lining and matching pants. Perfect fit, I was elated!

But, the more time we spent with this little tailor, the more she opened up to us. There’s a certain sort of candidness that comes from being impoverished and it seems as though everyone in Vietnam has a tragic past and story to tell. Sit down and ask them how they are doing and they’ll tell you everything you reluctantly wanted or didn’t want to know.

Over bottles of chilled water, in this humid little shop, we learned her life’s story. Em Ma, was a woman climbing up the working class ladder. She came from nearly the lowest rung of society as a fisherman’s wife. Supporting four children without help from her bum husband, developing arthritis, getting back surgery, having a good for nothing family overseas, getting barely 4 hours of sleep a day, she worked incredibly hard to gain her place as a tailor.

Her story was heart wrenching. It didn’t help that when we came in for our second fitting, she and girl-with-a-bun-in-the-oven, were eating their first meal since 11am and it was nearly 9pm when we came in…Preggers was a whole whopping 7 and a half months into her pregnancy and preggers had to walk about 20 blocks home later…and preggers had been hauling heavy things that even a non-preggers girl would have trouble with. Oie...

After that…Haggling? Forget it.

Saying no to 4ft prune faced grandmothers selling you things you don’t need. Forget it.

Feeling somewhat okay with being privileged? Forget it.

Everyone in Vietnam had a story like theirs…of loss, of struggle, of poverty, of survival.

My fabulous suit had come at a price and that price was my ignorance.

A Visit to the Tailor and then Karaoke Afterwards

Yesterday Co Hong Anh took a few of us to the Western Tailor to get clothes made. Several of our group had already gone the day before to get traditional Vietnamese clothes, or ao dai, made. Before our trip to the tailor's, we first had to get the fabric for the clothes. We took a taxi out to a fabric shop. Fabric shops here are a rainbow of color and a feast for the eyes: bolts and drapes of velvet and silk ranging from royal purple to night black embroidered with sequined phoenix tails, blooming roses, and colorful swirls. The boys picked out lined felts and stiff lined cloth for suits and shirts while us girls reveled in the silk and velvet and pondered over which of the beautiful designs would make the best dresses. After buying the cloth we met up with Co Hong Anh to go to the tailor's to turn the fabric into usable clothing. The tailor shop is owned by a husband and wife team who were patient with us as we attempted to describe what sorts of clothes we wanted made. We pointed, flipped through fashion magazines, pulled pictures from the internet, drew, and verbally described our desired dress wear. The wife jotted down our descriptions and through Co Hong Anh working as an interpreter made comments and suggestions. The husband would then take our measurements for the clothes. Co Hong Ang mentioned that the Vietnamese have their own distinct type of style, and sometimes the clothes you want made won't turn out to be exactly as you wanted, with added bows and frills to spice up what the Vietnamese find ordinary and bland. I'm curious now to see how my finished dress will look like...

In the evening we headed to the backpacker district for karaoke with our Hue partners. A wedding had just taken place at the restaurant/karaoke house, and we were able to catch a glimpse of the bride in her white gown. This marked the first time I'd seen a Vietnamese wedding here in which the bride is not wearing the gold and red ao dai but a Western style white gown. The karaoke was quite successful with a mixture of Western and Vietnamese songs. The Hue students turned out to be beautiful singers, and we all enjoyed listening and watching them sing. Vietnamese popular music is very beautiful and catchy. Our own part of the tableau combined a mixture of Disney songs, Michael Jackson, and other oldie rock and pop tunes. Everyone was in good spirits, dancing to the music and belting out the lyrics. It was a long and tiring, but happy day, and unfortunately for me, no progress had been made on that essay. Time to get to work today...